Safety
by madeleine68
Summary: Ever since she was four, she knew she wanted to be a police officer, because that was where she felt safest. 20 years later . . . THE LAST CHAPTER IS UP! Review for more!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Olivia and Serena Benson aren't mine. They belong to Dick Wolf.**

**This story starts out when Olivia was four and goes on to when she worked at SVU. You'll see what I mean as the chapters progress.**

I was four years old the first time I entered a police station.

My mother had been away for three days, on an unauthorized vacation with one of her elusive boyfriends, leaving me in the house all by myself. Of course, she hadn't told me who she was with, where she was, how long she was going to be gone for, or how I could contact her in the event of an emergency. She hadn't even told me she was going to be gone. So it was just me, four years old and alone in the house.

I was used to taking care of myself. I'd been doing it for as long as I could remember and my mother often took these trips, leaving me to manage the house and make my excuses to teachers and neighbours who wondered where she was. It was actually kind of peaceful.

It was a Thursday, garbage day. The garbage people only came to pick it up every other week, so it was my job to make sure it was out and waiting by the curb. A neighbour was raking her leaves when she saw me, barely weighing thirty pounds at the time, trying to lug a garbage bag to the curb that weighed more than I did. She came up to me and said, "Do you want some help, sweetie?"

I hesitated. I knew my mother would be angry at me, but I nodded anyway because the bag really was heavy.

She carried the bag to the curb and I thanked her. Then came the inevitable questions.

"Where's your mommy, honey?" she asked me.

"I don't know," I replied quietly, which was true.

"What's your name?"

"Olivia," I told her.

"Hi, Olivia. I'm Anna. Do you live here?"

I nodded my head.

"How come I've never seen you before?"

_Because my mother barely lets me leave the house, _I didn't tell her. _Because she's too drunk out of her mind to interact with anyone but a bottle and a long line of sleazy boyfriends. Because all of you stay away from her like she's a leper, as if violence and alcoholism are viruses that you'll catch if you get too close to her._

Instead, I shrugged.

"Well, Olivia," said the woman. "Why don't you come with me? I'm going to take you somewhere safe."

I didn't want to, but I didn't know how to say no. Whenever I said no to my mother, she hit me, so I worried that maybe this woman would do the same. My back was already sore from the whipping my mother had given me before she left and I didn't want new welts to layer the older ones. Maybe that was why my mother left – because she didn't love me, because she couldn't bear to look at me, because I was so bad that she had to hit me.

Anna took me to a large, intimidating-looking building about ten minutes away from where I lived. Inside, there were lots of men and women, some wearing normal jeans and t-shirts, some in business suits, and some in dark blue suits with letters on the back. I tried to make out what the letters said. N-Y-P-D. _Nypd?_ That wasn't a word. Was it? My reading skills weren't too sophisticated at that age, but I was confused. My kindergarten teacher had taught me about sounding out words, but that didn't make any sense. I clung tightly to Anna's hand as she led me into the unfamiliar building.

"Olivia, I'm going to talk to one of these nice police officers for a moment. Why don't you go sit over there?" Anna suggested, gesturing to a bench on the far end of the room.

I did as she told me, reassured. So this was a _police station _and these people were _police officers_. That was good. That meant I was safe. My teacher had told our class about police officers. They were there to help you when you were in trouble and to protect you. They were the good guys and if anything bad ever happened to you, you could tell them.

A few moments later, Anna came over to me, a tall woman with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail by her side. "You're going to stay here with Officer Ridley, okay, Olivia?"

I nodded, eyes wide. To be honest, I didn't really care where I stayed at that particular moment. I was exhausted and famished. My mother hadn't left any food in the fridge for me and I hadn't eaten since she left. All that was in our fridge were the glass bottles filled with unidentifiable liquids that made my mother unsteady and ill, so I knew better than to touch them, no matter how hungry I was.

The woman sat down beside me as Anna left. "Hi, sweetie," she said in a gentle voice. "My name's Jennifer and I'm a police officer. Your name's Olivia, right?"

I nodded again.

"Do you know where your mommy is, Olivia?" she asked me.

I shook my head.

"Is she with your daddy?"

"I don't know," I said. "My mommy says my daddy is a bad man. I never met him."

"Why is your daddy a bad man?"

"I don't know. He hurt my mommy. He did bad things to her."

Concern was evident in Jennifer's eyes. "What did he do to her?"

I screwed my face up in confusion, using the word that I'd heard my mother repeat many times even though I didn't know what it meant. "He raped her and that's why Mommy had me."

Her eyes widened. "Who told you that, Olivia?"

"My mommy," I replied.

She raised her eyebrows. "Okay, honey. Is there any way we can talk to your mother?"

I shrugged. "I don't know." Seeing her face fall slightly, I added, "I'm sorry."

"How old are you, Olivia?" she asked me.

I held up four fingers.

"When did your mother leave?"

I thought about it for a moment and counted on my fingers. "Three days ago."

Her eyes widened even more as my stomach rumbled. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"When my mommy left," I told her.

"I'll bet you're hungry."

I nodded emphatically.

"Why don't I get you something to eat? Would you like that?"

"Yes, please," I whispered as my stomach emitted another growl.

"Okay, I'll be back in a moment," she said. "You stay here."

I sat obediently and waited for her to return, feeling somehow comforted by her presence. I wasn't alone anymore. My teacher had told me that police officers helped you. She was going to help me find my mommy and bring her home.

A moment later, Jennifer reappeared, carrying a juice box and a slice of pizza. She handed them both to me and smiled encouragingly. "Have as much as you like."

I dug into the pizza, wolfing it down as quickly as I possibly could, and Jennifer smiled again. "So, Olivia," she said conversationally. "What's your last name?"

I took a sip of my apple juice. "Benson," I told her.

"Okay, you know what, honey? We're going to see if we can find your mother, okay?"

I nodded and finished the last slice of my pizza. "Okay."

"Do you feel better now?" asked Jennifer.

I nodded again. "Thank you," I said politely, as my mother had taught me to do.

Jennifer sat with me for what seemed to me like days, but was probably only one. She played clapping games with me and read to me and taught me cat's cradle and held me on her lap while I slept as we waited for my mother.

I felt myself being shaken gently awake and immediately tensed, bracing myself for the blow. But it never came. I looked up into Jennifer's cheery eyes. "Guess what?" she said. "We found your mommy. You can go home with her now."

I didn't want to. I wanted to stay with Jennifer forever, safe, but I knew I couldn't. So I thanked her and took my mother's hand. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was unsteady on her feet, but she brought me home.

Before I left, though, Jennifer knelt down in front of me and said, "Olivia, this is my business card. My phone number is written on the back. You call me if you ever need anything, okay, honey?"

I nodded. "Okay."

That was the day I decided that, when I grew up, I was going to be a police officer and help kids, just like her.

**Review for chapter two!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own everything! I own everything! I own . . . *wakes up* . . . nothing. **

**Okay, I know that according to the show, Joe Stabler was an emotionally distant and sometimes physically abusive man by all accounts. But let's just say, for the sake of this story, that he wasn't. Also, I know that Bernadette Stabler was bipolar, but let's pretend she wasn't. Enjoy this chapter.**

Two weeks later, I woke up in the hospital, unsure what had happened and why I was hear. All I knew was the searing pain in my arm and my back. Looking down, I noticed that my right arm was in a cast and my eyes widened in fear. I wanted to call out for a doctor, for my mother, for a police officer, for my teacher, for _someone _to tell me what was happening to me. But my throat was frozen in fear and I couldn't say a word.

I rolled onto my side, so as not to disturb the series of welts that had accumulated on my back. I could feel the dried blood through the flimsy hospital gown in which I was clad, but I didn't dare to try to clean it up as I would have if I had been at home. So I squeezed my eyes shut and waited in trepidation.

Hospitals weren't anything new to me; I'd had too many ER visits to count, even at such a tender age. But still, I always woke up in a panic, even though even I knew that I was probably safer in a hospital than in my own house.

I awoke to a gentle hand stroking my hair and immediately tensed my body at the unexpected touch. Raising my hands to cover my head, I still wasn't fully awake and tried to speak, but nothing came out.

"Olivia," said a soft voice that I vaguely recognized, but couldn't place.

I hardly dared to open my eyes, lest it be my mother standing in front of me, ready to beat me once again.

"Olivia." The voice came again and I forced my eyes open.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, smoothing my hair with her gentle hands, was the police officer I'd met two weeks ago. What was her name? I tried to remember. Jenna – Gina – _Jennifer_, that was it. "Hi," I said in a small voice.

"How are you feeling, honey?" she asked me.

My standard answer, "Fine," died on my lips under her gaze. Instead I allowed a tear to trickle down my cheek and whispered, "It hurts."

"Where does it hurt?"

"My back. And my arm." I hesitated. "What happened?"

She sighed. "I was hoping you could tell me that, Olivia."

I shook my head. "I don't know." I began to cry. "I'm sorry."

"Do you remember who hurt you?" she asked gently. "Was it your mother?"

"I don't know!" I repeated, my voice rising in fright. I hated when this happened, when I couldn't remember things that had taken place. It was terrifying.

"Okay, honey," she said quietly. "That's okay. You're going to be just fine. Your arm will be all better in six weeks. But Olivia, someone's been hitting you and we need to find out whom."

Well, I could answer _that _question for her. I just didn't want to. So I just leaned back on my pillow and wiped a hand across my face to rid it of the remnants of my tears. "Where's Mommy?"

"She's down at the police station with us, Olivia. We're trying to find out what happened to you and we need to talk to her."

My eyes widened in fear. "No! My mommy would never hurt me. She loves me."

"Okay, okay," Jennifer reassured me. "It's okay, honey." She reached out to take my hand, but I cringed at the touch and the guilty expression on her face made me feel guilty too.

"I'm sorry," I whimpered.

She didn't try to touch me again. "You need to get some rest," she told me. "I'll be back in a bit, okay, honey?"

I nodded and lay my head back down on the pillow. Within minutes, I was fast asleep.

A few days later, I found myself at the police station again, perched on a bench and sipping the apple juice Jennifer had brought me. She was with someone else right now and had told me to wait for her and not move.

A few moments later, a little boy who looked to be about two years older then me plopped himself down next to me. He had dark hair and clear blue eyes and he was holding the hand of a tall blonde woman who I assumed was his mother. "You stay right here, Elliot," she told him firmly. "I'm going to look for your father."

He shrugged. "Okay."

I turned away from him, holding onto the armrest of the bench as I swung my legs. I was unsure what to say to this boy, or whether I should even say anything at all. We were in the same general vicinity, but he was still a stranger.

He solved that problem for me by tapping me on the shoulder. I flinched at the touch but turned to face him. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," I said back.

"My name's Elliot. What's yours?"

I hesitated. "Olivia."

"Hi, Olivia," he said. "What'cha doin' here?"

It took me a moment to decipher what he was saying. He had two front teeth missing which gave him a slight lisp. When I figured out what he'd asked me, I considered what I should say. "'Cause I'm waiting for Jennifer," I told him. "How come you're here?"

"'Cause I'm waiting for my daddy."

I felt that familiar pang that assaulted my chest every time another child mentioned their father. When other people talked about their dads, it made me feel even sadder that I had none. "Oh." This boy and I were living in different universes. I'd bet his parents never hit _him_, and he wasn't here because a police officer had noticed the angry red welts that covered his back.

"Is Jennifer your mommy?" asked Elliot.

I shook my head.

"She's my daddy's partner," he informed me. "My daddy's a police officer. Detective Stabler." He pronounced these words as if they were delicate and profound all at once. He was clearly proud of his father.

We both looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching. A man with dark hair and eyes as blue as Elliot's was standing next to Jennifer. He lifted Elliot into his arms and perched him on his shoulders. "How are you doing, buddy?"

Elliot giggled and rested his cheek on his father's head. "Daddy, this is my new friend. Her name's 'Livia."

His father started to tickle his feet and Elliot laughed helplessly. "Daddy!"

I watched the family scene unfold before me and again felt a profound sense of loss, at what I never had and never would.

"Are you ready, Olivia?" Jennifer asked me.

I nodded and took her outstretched hand.

"Bye, Elliot," I whispered as I followed Jennifer away.

He giggled and gave me a little wave. "Bye, Liv."

I sat down in a small room with Jennifer. The room was filled with toys, dolls and puzzles and stuffed animals that I didn't touch. I'd never had much time for toys in my short life and barely knew how to play with them.

"Do you want something to eat?" she asked me, clearly trying to put me at ease.

I shook my head. "No, thank you."

"Okay. So, Olivia, do you remember anything that happened to you?"

I shook my head again. "I woke up in the hospital and you were there."

She nodded. "Now, Olivia, when you're at home, does anyone ever hurt you?"

"No," I replied quickly, hoping my pounding heart wouldn't give me away.

"Is your mother ever mean to you?"

"Mommy loves me," I told her. Even when my mother hit me, I truly believed it was because she did love me and that was why she did it.

"Are any of her boyfriends ever mean to you?"

I hesitated. "Uh uh."

"Are you sure, honey?"

I nodded.

We talked in circles for three hours, by which time I was sobbing in exhaustion and hopelessness. She gave me her card, told me to call her if ever and whenever I needed her, and sent me back home with my mother.

**Review for chapter three!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. I don't own anything. Dick Wolf does. Such is life.**

**If Olivia seems too mature for a five-year-old, remember, it's the result of her life experiences. Kids who've been abused grow up fast.**

I was lying on my stomach in my bed, trying to hold back my tears. It had been six months since the hospital incident and my fifth birthday had come and gone with no recognition. My classmates had extravagant parties to mark their birthdays, but my birthday present was a beating with my mother's belt. And of course, since I didn't invite the kids in my class to my birthday party, they didn't invite me to theirs either.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the frayed piece of paper that I'd folded and unfolded, read and reread many times over the past few months. Jennifer's business card. She said she would help me if I ever needed it and I did need it now. The pain was getting to be too much for me.

My mother was sleeping. No, she wasn't. She was passed out from one of her late-night drinking episodes. But I highly doubted she would notice I wasn't there if and when she came to. So I crept out of my bedroom, into the kitchen, and picked up the telephone. My heart was pounding in my chest as I dialled the number on Jennifer's card. 5-1-9-5-5-5-3-3-4-5. I pressed _talk _and held my breath as it rang.

She answered on the third ring. "Ridley."

My heart leapt into my throat. "Jennifer?" I asked uncertainly.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"Olivia," I told her.

"Oh." She suddenly sounded much more alert than she had a moment ago. "Of course, honey. How are you doing?"

"Okay," I lied. "I missed you. I wanted to say hi."

I could tell even over the phone that she was smiling as she replied, "I can do better. How would you like it if I picked you up?"

I hesitated. "Can we go to the toy room?"

She laughed. "Sure."

I'd never had much time for toys before, but I was excited anyway. My classmates were always talking about this new Barbie doll or that new Beanie Baby. Maybe I could learn what they were talking about so I could be included in these conversations.

"Okay."

"I'll see you in ten minutes, Olivia."

"Okay," I repeated. "Bye."

I sat down on my bed, wincing at the pain when my raw thighs came into contact with the hard mattress. Swinging my legs up and down, I waited.

The doorbell rang ten minutes later, just as Jennifer had promised. I tiptoed to the main floor and opened the door.

"Olivia," said Jennifer, kneeling down so we were eye-level. "You should never answer the door without asking who it is first. It could be a stranger and you should never answer the door to a stranger."

"Okay," I agreed without really listening to what she was saying. Floods of relief rushed through my body as I stood facing the one person who'd tried to help me all along.

"Where's your mother?"

I shrugged, shifting uncomfortably. "She's sleeping. She's not feeling too well."

Jennifer nodded. "Does she know you're coming out with me?"

"Yes." It was a lie, but I'd lied all my life, so much so that it barely bothered me anymore. I was a child without a conscience.

I climbed into the backseat of Jennifer's sedan and she drove me to the police station. She asked me about school, about my friends, about my mother, all the routine questions. I evaded them as best I could.

We went inside the police station. "Can we go to the toy room?" I asked her, an eager expression on my face.

"Sure," she agreed and led me there.

Sitting in the center of the toy room, doing a dinosaur puzzle, was the boy I'd seen six months ago – Elliot. He was laughing with his father and I felt my heart contract.

"Mind if we join you, Joe?" asked Jennifer.

"Sure," he agreed, patting the space beside him.

Elliot raised his head. "Hi, 'Livia. I lost a tooth."

He sounded so much younger than me even though he was two years older. I supposed he'd had a more sheltered upbringing. My classmates had that same childlike innocence, which is why I didn't relate well to them.

"Cool," I told him. "Can I help you with the puzzle?"

He nodded and moved over to make room for me. "Sure. We do the outside pieces first and we gotta sort them into two piles." He dumped the puzzle pieces onto the floor.

I helped him go through the pile and organize the pieces into two piles, the inside pieces and the outside ones. The police officers sat back on their heels, watching us in fascination as we silently and efficiently put together the puzzle.

We finished and Elliot leaned back, examining it in approval. "We did good."

I gave him a small smile and turned away. I was sure I'd seen a Barbie doll here somewhere . . . where? Oh, there. I picked her up and started to brush the doll's long blonde locks.

Elliot rolled his eyes and gave me a grunt of disdain. "You're such a _girl_."

I ignored him and continued to brush the Barbie's hair until it was shiny and smooth. Elliot eventually gave up on me and turned his back. "Daddy," he said. "Can we go get ice cream now?"

"Sure," agreed Joe Stabler.

"Can Liv come with us?"

He looked at me. "Do you want to?"

I hesitated. "Can I?"

"Sure."

I nodded. "Yes, please," I said quietly.

"Okay," said Jennifer. "Joe, you drop her off after, okay?"

I climbed into the backseat of Joe Stabler's sedan and Elliot plopped himself down beside me in that way only children can. "Guess what?"

I marvelled at the fact that he seemed to want to be my friend, even though he barely knew me. I never made friends easily because even though I was physically and maybe even intellectually at the same level as my classmates, in terms of maturity, I was light years ahead of them. Even now, with Elliot, I felt like I was talking to a child much younger than myself who wanted me to play a guessing game. But I played along, as children do. "What?"

"Daddy said he was gonna take just me out for ice cream today and it would be our special day. Each of us gets one special day a month and today's mine. So my brothers and sisters don't get to do any of the stuff I want to do today. Just me. Do you got any brothers or sisters?"

I shook my head.

"I got four," he told me, making a face. "I'll give you one. That's fair. I'll give you Maria. She bugs me."

His father laughed from the front seat. "I don't think it works that way, Elliot."

"Okay," he conceded. "How 'bout Maria goes to live with 'Livia's mommy and daddy and 'Livia comes to live with us?"

"I don't think that's going to happen either, El," said Joe Stabler.

He scrunched his face up and kicked the seat.

_So this was what a family was like._

**Review for chapter four!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Let's see . . . I don't own Elliot. I don't own Olivia. I don't own Joe Stabler. I don't own Serena Benson. However, I **_**do **_**own Jennifer.**

So began our tenuous friendship. At first it was out of convenience, just because we both happened to be in the same general vicinity, but soon we became close. I never told Elliot what happened at home, but sometimes I thought he already knew. We got to know each other so well that we could have entire conversations with our eyes. We could almost read each others' thoughts.

In the beginning, I would call Jennifer every few weeks, whenever I just needed to be close to someone who cared about me. She would obediently pick me up and bring me to the station and let me play with the Barbies. Sometimes Elliot would be there and we would do puzzles together. Then Jennifer retired and my safe haven was gone, but I'd made a new friend and learned a valuable lesson. He was two years older than me, but we had so much in common once we got over our initial, obvious differences. We'd go to the park, to the convenience store to get some candy, for bike rides. We tried smoking together, and beer, and pot. We simultaneously rejected all of the above. We studied for our SATs together and spent a summer as CITs. As we got older we grew closer. We could talk about anything – anything except my mother, and he knew better than to ask. He helped me patch up my black eyes and soothed my tears away. He always told me that I should tell an adult about my mother. "You could tell a teacher, Liv. Or a police officer. You could tell my dad. He'd help you."

I always shook my head and said firmly, "No way in hell. Nothing's wrong, El. My mother loves me."

I believed that up until I was sixteen and my mother got closer to killing me than she'd ever come before. She was hitting me with her belt and the pain got to be so unbearable that I just snapped. Blood was gushing from my back by the bucketful, so much that it soaked my shirt straight through and I almost passed out. I could hardly breathe and was struggling to hold in my tears – she could never see me again. I stood up and whirled around to face her. I saw the surprise on her face when I grabbed the belt from her and said in a soft, dangerous voice, "You are never going to hit me again." Then I walked right out the front door and didn't look back.

I hesitated as I passed Elliot's house, considering whether or not I should tell him I was leaving. But I decided against it. He would try to talk me out of it and I couldn't have that.

I walked for hours until I couldn't walk anymore. Then I slumped down on a bench, put my head in my hands, and cried for the life I could have had and the childhood I never did.

**I know this chapter was really short, but I thought this was the right place to end it. Would you like to know what happens in twenty years? **_**Would you? **_**REVIEW!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: If you've seen them on the show, they aren't mine. They are Dick Wolf's.**

**This chapter takes place fifteen years later, when Olivia is starting at SVU.**

Fresh out of the police academy, I walked into the 1-6 precinct with my head held high. I was ready to turn over a new leaf.

All my life, I'd waited for this. Ever since I was four, I'd wanted to be a police officer. When I was a cop, I'd be the protector, not the one who needed to be protected. I would be safe all the time and I'd be able to keep others safe. Having a badge, a gun, and a partner would give me security I had never had during my childhood.

I was in a unique position to help victims because I could empathize with what they were going through. I'd had a traumatic childhood and knew firsthand the long term affects of rape. If I could help it, no child would ever bear the burden I had borne throughout my own life. And no child would ever have to leave their home at the age of sixteen, and then have to live on the streets in such a dangerous city as New York before they could get on their feet.

I strode into the precinct and glanced around. Two men and one woman were sitting at desks, going through some paperwork. The woman was African-American and she had long, curly hair with golden highlights. They barely gave me a second glance as I knocked on the captain's door. One of the men was tall and thin, with greying hair. The other looked younger. He was muscular and well-built, with piercing blue eyes that looked as if they could read your soul. They stirred a memory inside me, something from long ago, but I couldn't place it and shook away the thought.

Captain Cragen, whom I'd met before on several occasions, opened the door and gave me a smile. "Detective Benson," he said, inclining his head. "I'll introduce you to your partner." He poked his head out of his office and called, "Elliot!"

The man with the clear blue eyes jogged into the room. "Yes, Captain?"

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head as it clicked where I knew him from. This was _Elliot Stabler_. Elliot who had been my best – and _only _– childhood friend. Elliot, whom I'd turned my back on and walked away from when I was sixteen. I almost ducked my head in shame, knowing that if he didn't recognize me already, he soon would. But I forced myself to stare into those bottomless blue eyes that I had drowned in time and time again as a teenager.

"Detective Stabler, this is your new partner, Detective Benson," said the captain, but neither of us heard. We were both too engrossed in each other, not daring to break eye contact.

"Liv," he whispered, recognizing me right away, and I flinched at the sound of his voice as well as the word he had uttered. No one had called me _Liv _in fifteen years. In fact, he was the only one who ever had.

Captain Cragen was just staring at us, clearly unsure what to make of this connection between Elliot and I. "Elliot will show you the ropes," he told me and waved his hand, dismissing us.

I couldn't take my eyes off Elliot as I followed him out of the office, almost mechanically.

"Liv," he said quietly once we were safely out of the captain's earshot. "Wow, it's – it's good to see you after such a long time."

It was good to see him too, but I couldn't tell him that. I'd left that life behind fifteen years ago and Elliot along with it. I had tried to forget him, but sometimes it was futile, because ever since I was sixteen, Elliot had haunted my dreams. His bottomless blue eyes would swim in front of my face, staring into my soul as he called, "Liv, where are you? Where are you?"

And I didn't know.

I didn't know what to make of this. We could never go back to being best friends like we used to be, but even I could see that our connection hadn't been lost. We used to be able to tell what the other was thinking with just a glance and I could see that still remained. Right now, he was stunned at having seen me again and just as uncertain as I was.

But we weren't children anymore and I wasn't a helpless, frightened little girl looking for a friend. We were grownups, colleagues, and most of all, police officers. _Nothing must jeopardize our professionalism._

So I said in a clipped voice, removing as much emotion from it as possible, "So, tell me about SVU."

He raised his eyebrows and sat down at a desk, gesturing that the one across from it was mine. "Sex crimes, Liv. The worst scum on the face of the earth."

"My name's _Olivia_," I corrected him automatically. The nickname, however warm it used to make me feel, only had negative connotations now. It reminded me of the life I'd spent fifteen years trying to forget.

He raised his hands in surrender, such a familiar gesture that I had to look away. "Okay, _Olivia_." He paused, then something seemed to occur to him. The man and woman at the other desks in the room were engaged in a friendly banter, the man twirling a pencil as the woman laughed at something he'd said. "That's John Munch and that's Monique Jeffries," he introduced them to me, then called, "Munch, Jeffries!"

They turned to him. "What?" asked John Munch, an expression of abject irritation on his face. "I was just explaining to Jeffries why Kennedy wasn't –"

"Cut it with the conspiracies," Elliot interrupted him. "This is my new partner, Olivia Benson."

Monique Jeffries gave me a polite nod. "It's nice to meet you."

John leaned back in his chair, so far that I feared he would fall off it. "Welcome," he said dryly.

I gave them both a shy smile, glad for the interruption from my reminiscence. "It's nice to meet you, too."

But Elliot wasn't ready to give up just yet. "Liv – sorry, _Olivia_. Do you want to have dinner tonight?"

I couldn't believe it. After fifteen years, he wanted to go back to being best friends as if nothing had happened? How could I do that? How could _he_?

I wanted this more than anything else in the world right now, which was why I had to deprive myself. Which was why I had to distance myself. Which was why I had to refuse.

"No," I snapped.

But the pounding of my heart and the shallowness of my breath contradicted my words. Even if my mouth was saying no, my heart was screaming, "Yes!"

**Review for chapter six!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to Dick Wolf.**

**This is going to be my last chapter. Hope you enjoy it.**

I heard a knock on my apartment door at 7:00 that evening and wondered who the hell it could be. I flung open the door and nearly slammed it shut again. Standing in the doorway was Elliot Stabler. "You just don't give up, do you?" I asked him.

He shook his head and answered with a smug, "Nope."

"How did you know where I lived?"

"I'm a detective," he told me, as if that explained everything.

"So am I, but 'detective' is not synonymous with 'stalker.'"

Elliot gave me an approving nod. "You haven't changed one bit."

"Aw, _thanks_."

"Can I come in?"

I rolled my eyes. First of all, my apartment was a mess, and even now I felt the childish urge to impress him. Secondly, I knew that if I spent even ten minutes with him, I would be forced to remember. And if I remembered, I knew I would never be able to forget. I wanted so badly to start fresh and move on because rehashing our history would only complicate our working relationship – if a working relationship was even possible at this point.

Finally, I conceded. "Okay." I knew he was just as stubborn as me – he would stand out here all night, banging on the door until I let him in.

He raised his eyebrows. Obviously, he'd been expecting a much more emphatic refusal. But he quickly masked his surprise as I stepped aside and he followed me in.

I sat down on one end of my couch and Elliot sat down on the other side. He was just staring at me, his clear blue eyes boring into my soul, penetrating my core.

I held his gaze. I wasn't the child I'd been fifteen years ago, the victim, the one who looked to big, strong Elliot for help. Now I could stare back into his eyes without flinching. Whichever one of us blinked first lost, and it wasn't going to be me.

Amusement quirked his lips upward. "What are you doing?"

I blushed and looked away. But then I met his eyes again. "Elliot," I said seriously. "We're not kids anymore. Things are never going to be the same."

He blinked. "Why did you leave?"

"You _know _why."

"If you'd stayed, I could have – would have – helped you."

"I didn't want you to."

"I know." He gave me a rueful smile. "You always wanted to be so independent."

Tears sprang to my eyes but I blinked them back. "Let's – let's not talk about that, okay? Let's start fresh."

He hesitated. "Liv – can we do this?"

I knew what he meant. We _could_ do this. We could work together, be friends again. We could be partners. We could be the best team the police department had ever known because we _were_. We loved each other. Not in a romantic manner, but in that way only old friends can. Old friends who know each other better than they know themselves.

I allowed myself a small smile as I looked up at Elliot. "Yes," I told him. "We can."

**So that's the end. Sorry if it was slightly abrupt or unsatisfying. Hope you liked the story. Please review!**


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